Heavy, dark clouds hung low, reluctant to part from the metropolitan sky. Despite knowing rain was imminent, I dragged myself along the sidewalk with short, sluggish steps—my shoulders drooping, hunched over like a zombie.
My brain felt as though it were smoking after taking my final exam.
I had almost washed my hair with soda water outside the classroom earlier, if Lenore hadn't passed by and snapped me out of it with a quick greeting.
"Macchiato… Sachertorte… My Brahma…" I muttered lazily while massaging my throbbing temples.
Maybe some sweets and caffeine can get rid of the headache that's been building up. Well, there was no harm in taking a brief moment for myself, now that final exams were officially over.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
The pelican crossing signal still glowed red when I joined the cluster of pedestrians waiting to cross. Some were absorbed in their phone screens, while a young boy near the post repeatedly pressed the button impatiently.
I chose to stare at a nearby videotron looping advertisement after advertisement.
My spine snapped straight the instant I spotted my father on the opposite side of the street. He was laughing, wrapping his arms around his son from his new family, looking entirely unburdened.
His laughter... every bit of it felt like dozens of sharp needles piercing my heart.
Suddenly, his head turned. Our eyes met across the street. His pupils dilated instantly.
"Ishihara?"
His voice was faint, breaking through the noise of the street, but it managed to shake my defenses—making my chest rumble violently.
Bastard! Damn it! How dare he look so happy?
My jaw clenched tight as tears welled in my eyes. I didn't want him coming near me. I didn't want him looking at me.
I didn't want him knowing I was still broken inside—that the wound he had inflicted five long years ago had never truly healed. I didn't want him to realize the immeasurable heartache I carried because of his utterly reckless, irresponsible actions.
Yet, taking his son by the hand, he began walking toward me.
Every instinct screamed at me to run, but my feet remained glued to the pavement. My hands turned ice-cold—the exact sensation I had felt before obliterating that cardboard box.
'No, Ishi. Hold on! Don't do it!'
I balled my hands into tight fists, fighting to suppress it. Even though dark thoughts of ending that bastard had crossed my mind, deep down I knew I couldn't.
Treating him as though he were dead was the best path forward—just as he had chosen to walk out and abandon me.
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Suddenly, someone's hand gently unclenched my fist, sliding fingers between mine to hold it. The touch was soft and warm.
I turned to find a figure draped in a pristine, pure white robe. His face veiled behind a soft radiance. Yet, a soothing calm steadily rippled through me, banishing the grief and anger, binding the raw wounds of my heart anew.
'White Robe? How is that possible…'
RUMBLE!
A distant clap of thunder echoed. A gentle drizzle began to slick the asphalt, but a clear, transparent umbrella suddenly materialized above us, shielding me from the falling rain.
When I looked back across the street, my father stood frozen in the middle of the busy zebra crossing, gazing at me in utter bewilderment while his son kept tugging at his arm.
I offered no words, not even a hollow smile. I simply turned and walked away alongside White Robe.
No words were spoken. Just the two of us, hand in hand, making our way home.
Whoosh...
Through the clear canopy of the umbrella, the world came into sharp focus. People around us hurried past to escape the rain. Cars sped by as streetlamps flickered to life. Fear no longer touched me, because he was by my side, keeping me company.
Now I knew I had made my choice. I wouldn't run from my past, nor would I ever go back. I would keep stepping forward, cutting through the fog that shrouded my destiny.
⊹
⁛
⊹
CLICK.
The front door swung open on its own the moment I arrived. I stepped inside with White Robe, who remained closely by my side.
He didn't release my hand, and I had no desire to pull away. The umbrella was gone. The drizzle outside hadn't stopped, yet the silence inside the house felt colder than the rain.
I led him to sit on the living room sofa. The door slid shut silently behind us, despite having a guest of the opposite sex—from another dimension—inside.
I wasn't about to risk a neighbor spotting me chatting with a creature whose face glowed like a lamp, that would surely spark bizarre rumors and wild accusations.
Brahma didn't come to greet me—my chicken was likely still asleep in the bedroom.
We sat in quiet silence. No conversation passed between us. For some reason, I felt awkward, yet a deep curiosity burned within me.
I wanted to ask: what kind of being was he? Why did his face glow with light? Why was he accompanying me? Why had he appeared, even though I had never asked for or expected his presence?
I turned, only to find him already gazing at me. Our eyes met—or at least, I felt they did.
Slowly, the light veiling his face began to dim and... evaporated completely.
Our gazes truly met. His peaceful countenance stared back at me, as though reading my innermost thoughts. His gentle smile infused me with profound peace, just like when we walked through the quiet of that vast plain.
"It's okay to feel pain, Ishihara," he whispered, his voice even smoother than velvet. "The past isn't to be hated, but to be embraced and let go of."
"But... how?" I asked, my tone laden with doubt.
He gave no spoken answer, offering only a gentle nod as a guide. Suddenly, he stood up and glided toward the kitchen. My eyes tracked his movement until he disappeared behind the wall.
HISS-SSSS!
CLINK!
Faint sounds drifted from the kitchen—the quiet hiss of a coffee machine, the soft clink of a spoon against china. Moments later, he returned carrying a silver tray with an ceramic cup.
"Drink it," he offered, presenting the cup to me.
It was a macchiato, topped with intricate latte art forming the shape of a peacock. Its subtle bitterness tasted delicious on my tongue.
I drank every last drop, and all the while, his gaze never left me. His smile widened slightly. There was no need for words—only complete understanding.
He reached for my hand again, but this time, not to hold it. He pressed his lips gently against my knuckles. The soft brush of his lips sent a shiver down my spine.
He looked up at me, his eyes overflowing with quiet serenity.
"Rest now... your soul has fought too hard today," he whispered.
I gave a small nod. I knew he hadn't merely served me coffee, he had gifted me strength—the strength to face my past, and the strength to accept myself.
He released my hand as a soft radiance began to envelop his form, yet his smile never wavered.
Slowly, he dissolved into swirling golden specks that hovered in the air. They glittered beneath the chandelier, dancing silently before vanishing into the air.
Only the rich aroma of coffee, the lingering warmth on my hand, and a fragile, newfound calm remained.
I knew it was his way of saying goodbye.